


Supernatural Creatures Deal in Vices Too

by jaythewriter



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen, M/M, werewolf and fairy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaythewriter/pseuds/jaythewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tired monsters get tired of human beings REALLY quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supernatural Creatures Deal in Vices Too

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for homophobia+homophobic slurs and heavy involvement of alcohol. What 'A dog and a fairy walk into a bar...' was meant to be.

It’s rare that Jay and Tim to actually go and visit a bar. 

Bars are an unnecessary pleasure. They sell overpriced items that will not only put a damper on their poor abused wallets; these items fuck with the boys’ perception, leave them open to attack, to be sloppy and let a few secrets slip through alcohol soaked lips. That doesn’t take the lack of fine company into account either. 

But sometimes, temptation wins them over. The urge catches them by the throat when the nights drag on too long and they fixate on immortality, how long they’ll be here on this stinking rotting planet. 

That seems reason enough for them to give in to vice.

(Good thing they don’t need that money very much. It’s wonderful, being able to flip a switch and turn on the empathy people keep hidden in the back of their chests. They take one look at the scrawny fairy before them, and Jay is off skipping back to the car with a packet of raw beef and bags of vibrantly colored berries.)

The two of them save a good amount of money together with that method. Hell, they could give up money altogether, but Jay refuses to use his special charms that way. Tim admires him for that, although he wishes Jay would suck it up and let karma do the work when they’re dealing with an asshole-- which happens more often than he’d like. ‘What’s with you, you’re practically sparkling! And your faggot buddy isn’t looking too good either…’

Oh well. All the more reason to get drunk and flop off of the stools together laughing.

Jay picks out the spot closest to the fluorescent lights, hoping it’ll dim the strange glitter that insists on surrounding him. Hope is all he has. Sitting in the darkest corner means that Jay will light up like Christmas. Being under the buzzing lights illuminates the glitter that clings to his face. It’s lose-lose.

Either way he has come to expect the underhanded insult to come flying his way sooner or later. It’s there, he can hear it forming in the cranking gears of his fellow bar patrons while he and Tim settle into their creaky and unsteady swivel seats.

But Tim keeps his strong hand on his knee, holds him down without actually pinning him to the seat.

“We’re here for a good time,” he reminds Jay, and he’s right. He’s here for a quick swallow of fire that will scorch his throat raw, and then the mindless sleep that will come after.

Still. Jay has seen the pattern time and time again. It never fails.

They try to get comfy at the bar, leaning on the counter and happily buying the tackily named drinks for each other for shits and giggles. 

“The Messy Mud Splatters for my boyfriend.”

“He’ll have your most sparkly Janet Jewel Box Jamboree.”

Then, just as they’re reaching that point where one more shot could do them well--

“Hey, faggot, did ya just come back from the gay bar across town? You sure look like it.”

Some idiot gets brave.

Tim can play a good game of pretending he cares about the safety of these people. They’re alright on their own and don’t cause any harm.

But once they start to hassle Jay…

“What’s it matter if I did?” Jay always answers, and sometimes that’s enough for these bozos. They’ll shake him off as not worth their time and back off like he might give them the homosexual version of cooties.

“Because if ya did, you don’t got any right to be here. I don’t let fuckers the likes of you in here. This is my turf.”

Tim bolts up, steady and solid on his feet. Jay might think he was sober if not for the mostly drained tall bottle they asked to be left out. 

“I think you’d better go.”

He’s breathless already. Hmm. Is the moon full tonight? Jay didn’t check…

“What? You gonna let your boyfriend do the dirty work for ya?” the man says around a near toothless smile. Jay doesn’t do anything more than shrug; he’s too exhausted to tell this bald fellow that he’s barking up the wrong tree.

Rather, the wrong dog.

Tim glances down at him, fingers brushing over Jay’s shoulder, just above the hidden wings. A sharp something grazes his back through his hoodie. This, this is asking for permission.

And honestly, this wouldn’t be the first time he and Tim have left a guy roughed up after a night on the town. One less bigot to mess with those unable to defend themselves.

So Jay nods into his whiskey before sipping at it, nonchalant. Tim’s breath catches and his fists curl.

“Yeah, I will be doing his dirty work,” Tim hisses, grabbing the fucker by the wrist. Jay tries his hardest not to revel in the flash of uncertainty that crosses the man’s eyes, he really does. And he fails, badly, watching with a gleeful curl to his lips as Tim practically drags the guy outside.

“You know, we don’t condone violence here.”

The suspiciously silent up until now barman speaks up at least, leaning on his elbows to get in Jay’s face. Wonderful. Where was he a couple minutes ago?

It’s simple. Jay only has to reach and touch the stranger’s hand, and his narrow dark eyes calm. Why, he might fall asleep right here at the counter.

“Now, I think it’s better for both of us if you just don’t look out there, out the window,” Jay advises-- well, more like orders. The barman nods obediently and Jay sighs with relief. “Alright. Good. How about a joke instead?”

“I like jokes,” the man says lazily, giggling already.

Jay chances a peek over his shoulder, just in time to see Tim vanishing from in front of the windows. A peek of long fangs is enough to let Jay know he’s fine.

He turns back to face the barman, as though all is normal- like everything is fine.

“Okay. A dog and a fairy walk into a bar…”


End file.
